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Saturday, October 24, 2009
I DO Believe in Spooks!
I once lived part-time in a haunted house.
In some ways, that is a hard statement to make simply because so many people will read it, roll their eyes, and say,
"oh, really?" When you've had an unique experience it is hard to suffer the doubters with much patience, but
on this one I hold firm despite any skepticism. I saw a ghost, not just once but on many occasions. Oh, and I
learned from experience with this ghost that what seperates the believers from the naysayers is just such an encounter.
I thank the TV show "Dark Shadows" for my early introduction into all things supernatural. I was, at age seven,
eight, and nine, such a huge fan of the show that I cheerfully believed in ghosts, vampires, and all such creatures. However,
it wasn't until age twenty that I met my first ghost.
It was the autumn of 1981; I was commuting to college every day from my little hometown to the big city, which was a
real drag when I had eight o'clock classes, not to mention something of an interruption in the active social life I was
leading. I had fallen into a fun crowd of folks my age, and most of us -- former high school nerds -- were thoroughly
enjoying the feeling of...well, not being popular, but being "included." It was a very heady experience and I hated
missing any of the fun just because I had a fifty-mile round trip to make every day.
One of the girls, Trudell, came up with a nice solution for me. She wanted to move out of her sister's
place and have her own apartment. She had found one in an old house not far from downtown but couldn't make the
rent on her paycheck as a cashier at Citgo. She made me an offer: Would I help her with the rent in exchange for
a key and total crash pad privileges? You bet I would, sister. We shook on it, and I was relieved to
know I didn't have to drive all the way home every night.
Trudy's place was the first floor of an early twentieth century house in a down-at-the-heels working class neighborhood
in the shadow of a once-thriving G.E. plant. Considering the area in general, I was impressed with Trudy's find.
The house, though faded and in need of some basic homeowner TLC, was in good shape and far from being the kind of dump
a lot of kids our age were renting. We couldn't believe our luck, although we soon found out, as all ghost
story characters do, why the house had been available at an attractive price and had had a high turnover rate.
You entered the house from a basic midwestern front porch. Just inside the front door a stairway
stretched up the west of the house to the second floor. Across from the stairway was a door leading to a front parlor
kind of room, and a long hallway lead from the front door to the heart of a house -- a huge living area and kitchen.
The bathroom was off the kitchen, and a cozy bedroom was behind the kitchen at the very back of the house. There was
a locked door at the top of the stairs.
"Is the landlord going to rent out the second floor, too?" I asked Trudy, already concerned about tenants who might
be even noiser than we planned to be.
She shrugged. "He says it needs work, so I'm not worried about it."
I never met Mark, the elusive landlord. From what little I gleaned from Trudell, he had a bunch of similar
houses and had over-extended himself trying to maintain them all. Still, that locked door and Mark's somewhat dubious
ownership led my writer's imagination to all sorts of potential good stories. In the end, though, I didn't
give it much thought as Trudy settled in, and I enrolled for Fall Quarter classes.
Throughout September I noticed Trudy, who had been so excited about having her own place, looking exhausted and rather
low in enthusiasm for the place. "You should stay over more often, Nick," she'd tell me. "You're hardly getting
your money's worth."
By that time I knew Trudell well enough to know she was hiding something from me. "What's going on?" I asked
her, eyes narrowed.
"Oh, nothing," she answered vaguely. "I'm just not used to being alone, I guess."
It took awhile, but I finally got her to 'fess up. "I think this place is haunted," she finally stated, daring
me to laugh at her.
I didn't laugh; I was actually excited at the idea of living in a haunted house. Trudy went on to explain that
she heard unexplained noises throughout the night, and couldn't get over the idea that someone else was in the house.
"Gee, I hope I get to hear the ghost," I said with great enthusiasm.
She looked at me in disgust. "Sure you do," she jeered. "When it happens to you, you'll be as creeped
out as I am. Can you at least leave more of your records here? I play them late at night to drown out the noise
until I'm so tired I have to go to sleep." I had moved my portable record player into the apartment for entertainment
since Trudy didn't have a TV. We were both on a huge 60's music kick at the time, and she loved the scratchy 45's
I had inherited from my sister and brother as much as I did.
"Sure," I told her. "And I'm going to stay over this weekend, and can I come here Tuesdays after classes for
a nap while you're at work? I want to join the gang for Tuesday Night Dinner, and don't have anything to do between
three and six."
"Of course you can!" Trudy gave me a friendly smack on the arm. "That's why you pay part of the rent.
Stop being so damned polite about it, Nick!"
So that next Tuesday I went to the house to catch a few hours of sleep between school and social life. I usually
crashed on the couch in the front parlor, but since Trudy was at work I decided to stretch out on her bed in the room at the
back of the house. As I lay down, it occurred to me that it was the first time I'd been in the house alone.
I was about half asleep when I heard muffled noises over my head. I strained my ears and finally decided it was
the neighbors. Then, again, as I was about to fall asleep, I heard something else, and somehow I knew, just as people
in scary stories always know, that I wasn't alone. "Trudy!" I hollered, convinced she had snuck home from work
to scare me.
Silence.
I got up and looked around, but the house was empty. Still, I knew with an uncanny certainty that I was not
alone. It was then, I think, that I really understood for the first time that all the fear that engendered
so much entertainment for me via "Dark Shadows' and all the horror movies I watched was real. I felt it.
And it wasn't a good feeling.
Later that night, after Tuesday Night Dinner with the gang and the usual Tuesday night gathering for a music and
booze fest at Bruce's house (Southern Comfort, as I remember, and the new Debbie Harry solo album), I stopped off
to see Trudell. She and her soon-to-be-a-lawyer boyfriend were having tea in the kitchen. "You were right about
this place," I flatly told her, and despite the smirk on her boyfriend's face, Trudy and I looked at each other and knew for
sure that neither one of us was crazy.
After that we did our best to make a joke of the whole thing. At some point I named the ghost George, and we make
constant references to him. Although the whole experience was weird as hell, we came to realize that George seemed
to be harmless. We got used to it, or at least we did until Lynn got involved.
Lynn, whom we affectionately called "Madam Diesel Dyke," had become a firm member of the crowd that fall. She was
big, loud, opinionated, full of fun, and she dabbled in what is now known as Wicca. She was fascinated by
the idea of our ghost, and insisted we needed to have a seance to find out more about him. Lynn took the stories
of Trudy and I at face value, and was annoyed that several other people said we were full of shit.
"You!" She'd holler, pointing a finger at a nonbeliever, "you will be at the seance!"
Again, what was a big joke finally became a reality. We scheduled a seance. Now, you'd think I would have
known, from watching "Dark Shadows," that seances are dangerous, but I got swept up in Lynn's enthusiasm. And, needless
to say, the idea of actually playing out the kind of story the Collins family routinely endured was appealing. So on
a Friday night between Thanksgiving and Christmas we had the seance. And it worked. I swear as I write this that
it worked, and Lynn and the rest of us somehow conjured up our harmless George, and disturbed the hell out of him.
I won't go into all of the details, but I will relate the most terrifying moment, when even the nonbelievers among us
came to total belief. We were all clustered around Lynn at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the second floor landing
where the shadow of a man stood, watching us. Lynn began to slowly climb the stairs toward him as several people urged
her not to. Suddenly the shadow-man lurched towards her. We all (Lynn included) shrieked and fled to the parlor
like the wusses we really were.
"You know what?" I said after we had all calmed down. "I think he died falling down the stairs."
"No," Lynn said positively. "Someone pushed him."
We never did find out for sure what happened to poor ole George, but what had been a rather benign presence became something
truly unsettling. I don't know what we did at that seance, but it somehow pulled George a little closer to this world.
I never had an easy night in that house after it. I had a hell of a time going to sleep because I was too
busy listening to George stomp down the stairs. He'd walk through the hallway, into the kitchen-living room area, and
hover in an unused storage room nearby. Then, when I was convinced that he was done, he'd stomp back upstairs, only
to repeat the process over and over again. It was one of the eeriest and most annoying experiences I have ever had --
hearing and watching this ghost methodically and constantly doing his walk of the damned -- that I would
eventually take my pillow and blanket and crash on the floor of Trudy's bedroom. He never went in there, and although I
could still hear him, at least I didn't have to watch him.
In the meantime real life drama was going on. Lynn had a fight with her parents and moved into the house with Trudy.
Trudy got disgusted with her job, her boyfriend, and life in general and decided to move back to the scene of her childhood,
Lincoln, Nebraska. Lynn decided to go with her. They urged me to join them, but I felt I needed to make an
attempt to finish school, so I stayed behind. I gave my key to Trudy, who gave it to the landlord, and aside from one
last "trick" with a guy who's name I have forgotten, I never entered the house again.
I can't believe it's been almost thirty years since all of that happened. Every now and again I'll find myself
close to that neighborhood, and I'll drive slowly by the house, wondering if the current tenants are aware of George.
So yes, I DO believe in spooks, and if you have read the above story and still do not believe, well, GOOD FOR YOU!
I'm happy for you, but the little kid who watched Angelique curse so many folks on "Dark Shadows" can't help
but wish a friendly curse of his own on you -- a genuine George-like experience.
And then you will believe, baby. You'll believe.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
BOO! It's October
In The Handyman's Dream, our hero Ed Stephens is revealed to have a ghoulish interest in the slasher movies
of the early 80's. Since I sometimes think Ed comes across as a little too saintly I thoroughly enjoy this quirk of
his character. None of Ed's fans have ever commented on his joy concerning these cinematic horrorfests, so I've
managed to avoid revealing the fact that his interest in those movies came straight from me. I was into those awful
movies back then, too. I'm not sure why, but I did get a big bang out of them at the time. It is an interest,
though, I can say has faded a good deal as I've gotten older.
Still, it's October. Halloween is coming, and every year at this time, usually when I pull out my 45 rpm record
of "Monster Mash," I get to thinking about a good scary movie. I've pulled out a few and watched them this past week.
It's amazing to me how innocent some of them seem compared to what I've heard about the gorefests of the past few years.
I can't compare because I haven't seen any of the new ones (just the thought of those Saw movies makes me shudder
and want to hide under my desk) so I decided, in honor of good ole Ed Stephens, to get honest and admit that I enjoy
both good and bad horror movies, and comment on a few of my "must see" horror flicks. As Sheriff Brackett says in Halloween,
"it's Halloween. We're all entitled to one good scare." So here are the movies I'd choose for that purpose
in October, or any other time for that matter.
Halloween (1978). Of course this John Carpenter classic has to top this list. I still consider this
one of the scariest movies of all time. It works on every level of suspense, terror, and horror. Carpenter plays
on our darkest fears like a concert pianist, and created a masterpiece that remains untouchable in brillance, no matter how
many other filmmakers have tried to recreate and increase the shock of the original. I know a movie "works" for me when
it opens a door in my own creativity and makes me think, "What if?" I first saw Halloween during my senior
year in high school, and it's been challenging me as a writer ever since.
Final comment and bottom line on Halloween: When Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis) makes that fateful
walk across the street we ALL lose our innocence along with her. For me, that was a pretty powerful concept for
a 17-year-old kid with a hell of a lot to learn yet in life.
And yes, Ed Stephens' sister Laurie is named after her.
Night of the Living Dead (1968) When the guys go to see a revival of Night of the Living Dead
in The Handyman's Promise it's really a personal tribute and thank you from me to George Romaro for
his horror classic. Interestingly enough, it was right around Halloween '07 when I was writing that chapter, so
on Halloween night I got my friend and housemate at the time, Blake, to sit down and watch it with me. He
found it hokey and funny. Instead of getting annoyed at his amusement with a movie I still think it truly terrifying,
I just shrugged. It does look dated, and perhaps even ridiculous by 21st century standards. It still
works for me, though. Plenty of critics have commented on the sociology of the film, so I won't bother, but I will say
it plays so strongly on my own social claustrophobia that it gives me nighmares to this day.
Carrie (1976) I'm sure I wasn't the only picked-on school nerd who discovered Stephen King's first
novel in the mid-seventies and thought, "how cool!" Fortunately for all of us budding revenge-seekers, he kept the karma
real and gave us all a little something extra to think about. Anyway, I expected to be disappointed when I first saw
Brian DePalma's movie version because it sharply limited the scope of Carrie's destruction, but I was completely captivated. It's
a beautiful, brilliant movie. And I can honestly say Carrie is the only horror movie that made me cry the first
time I saw it. No, I didn't weep during the violence, but during the scenes at the prom before all hell broke loose.
When Tommy and Carrie are dancing under the stars, suddenly every perfect prom dream you've ever heard about, or read about,
or dreamed about comes true, and I broke down because I knew how it would all end. Again, that kind of instinctual filmmaking opened
my mind a little further, creatively speaking, and I thank both Mr. King and Mr. DePalma for that.
Rosemary's Baby (1968) Strange time, the mid-sixties. Playwright and novelist Ira Levin,
at some point during that era, reflected on the disenchantment of the times and came up with an idea that was bound to
shock the shit out of everyone who was still trying to hold onto what they had been told to believe. He essentially
wrote a screenplay called Rosemary's Baby and published it as a novel. Movie director Roman Polanski saw the
potential and ran with it. There is no gore and no cheap thrills, just a growing dread and a final scene that opens
everyone's mind to dark possibility. I think this forty-year-old movie is a must-see in today's America, a place and
time where so many notions are being challenged, and so many of us are trying to hang onto our beliefs -- again,
the things we were TOLD to believe in.
Friday The 13th (1980) Okay, laugh. Laugh all you want. You might as well, as Paramount Studios
has made the Friday the 13th franchise the ultimate horror movie bad joke. But have you seen the very first
one? Did you see it when it came out, when there were no preconcieved ideas about it? I can still remember
that moment in June 1980 when my spine pressed hard against the theatre seat as Alice said to Mrs. Vorhees:
"They're dead! They're all dead!" And I will never forget the screams and shrieks that filled that little theatre
through the rest of the movie, especially at the end. Wow! That's a movie memory I wouldn't trade for all
the free tickets offered to me for today's scary films.
Other Cheap Thrills, Camp Fests, or Potential Shockers I recommend for Halloween '09:
The Fog (1980)
House of Dark Shadows (1970)
I Saw What You Did (1965)
Hell Night (1981)
Sisters (1973)
The Stepford Wives (1975)
And in honor of The Patty Duke Show coming to DVD, I offer this one for Duke fans: You'll Like My
Mother (1972). Ms. Duke, of course, is great, and watching Richard Thomas shatter his perfect John Boy Walton
image is wonderful fun.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Hello, Amazon? Is There Anyone Home in Kindle-land? Plus Other Odds & Ends
Do you remember that classic Wendy's commercial from the '80's, the one where Clara Pellar grumbles, "I don't think there's
anybody back there." That's kind of how I'm feeling about Amazon Kindle these days.
No, the HANDYMAN books are not yet on Kindle. I hoped they would be by now, but they seem to be caught in one hell
of a backlog of books that have been submitted to Kindle. From what little I can understand from the vague postings
at their site, the Amazon folks seem to be up to their armpits in copyright issues. As much as it annoys the hell out
of me that people are submitting God knows what in hopes of making a little money, I understand Amazon's position. The
HANDYMAN books are copyright protected, and woe be to the person who tries to steal anything written by me. Still, I
keep thinking I should have paid more attention in those Business Law classes I took in college, or at least all those episodes
of The Paper Chase I watched way back when. Lawyers seem to be the only people making money these days.
Anyway, when Ed Stephens officially enters the golden gates of the Kindle store, I'll report on it here.
On other subjects, I realized today that I really needed to post some sort of update on my big drama of the summer
-- kicking the cigarette habit. Well, I hate to admit it, but I'm still lighting up. Oh, I've cut back, and
I'm making myself smoke only the cheapies -- bought by the pack from the Clark station -- but I haven't been able to
rid myself of it altogether. Rather than go into the ongoing struggle, I'll just say THANKS to all the folks who
have sent their quitting stories to me along with tons of support and encouragement. It is absolutely amazing to receive
that kind of warmth and good wishes from people who know nothing about me other than the books I have written. It is
so priceless, and does give me hope that I can kick this wretched habit once and for all.
I have to admit that the whole smoking dilemma has really brought my mortality home to me. I think, too, celebrating
a birthday recently helped to push that home as well. My friend Anj was over the other night. (People who actually
read Dedication pages in books will recognize this name from The Handyman's Dream.) We hung out here for
awhile, then drove over to a family-style restaurant for some dinner. We both seemed to be shifting uncomfortably in our
seats at the booth as we reluctantly discussed the fact that we had now been out of high school for THIRTY DAMN YEARS, and
we painfully reflected on the past, present, and wondered about the future for us and other people our age.
Trust me, it did not help that Manfred Mann's Earth Band's "Blinded By the Light" was playing overhead, along with other songs
from our high school years. Christ, I thought. The songs of our youth are now considered
easy-listening music for family dining. We MUST be old!
Our conversation continued through dinner and back at my place. We finally concluded that aside from the usual
horror people our age have about getting older, technology was playing a big part in our frustrations. "We're becoming
obsolete a lot faster than our parents did," Anj said, and I think she's right. I do my best to keep up, but when a
young friend cleaned up some problems I was having with my computer the other night in a matter of moments, I realized
that I was still running light-years behind the real Gen X. (Sorry, I consider us poor saps born in the early sixties
too young to be boomers and too old to be Gen X. And I'm sure any demographer my age would agree.)
So that brings me back to Kindle. I'm doing my best, folks, but my books are still in limbo. I'm
really frustrated about that, but I have to admit that a small, nasty part of me is secretly delighted that technology
designed to remove the need for the physical pleasure that is reading an honest-to-God book seems to be imploding at
the moment. It makes me feel that I still have time left to catch up, and perhaps even have time to convince myself
that Kings of Leon are as cool as Boston, Blue Oyster Cult, and Foghat.
In the meantime, Amazon, you say you shipped my DVD's of The Patty Duke Show this week, but they
still haven't arrived, and I'm left with that damned Patty Duke Show theme song in my head with no release.
Are you sure they are still not in the warehouse? Are you having problems there, too? As I always say, Technology
is great when it works, but a total drag when it doesn't.
Oh, God. My itunes shuffle just pulled up "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana. The day I hear this one in
a restaurant I'll KNOW it's time to preplan and prepay for my funeral!
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When I'm Not Writing...
UPDATE: If you are on Facebook I hope you'll join the NICK POFF Author of
the HANDYMAN series group for discussions, updates, and more.
The sad but honest truth is that most writers need to supplement their income with something other than writing.
I've worked in the radio industry since the tender age of sixteen, and for the same two radio stations for the past fourteen
years. We call it The Hotel California -- you can check out but you can never leave! It's amazing how people go,
but then seem to come back at some time, including me. Radio has been good to me, and although there are still times
I regret not sticking with the writing thing at an earlier age, it's been an interesting ride.
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Things I'm Enjoying....
In The Handyman's Dream Ed and Rick spend time at a cabin on a small lake in southern Michigan.
In a weird fiction-meets-non-fiction kind of way, John Sellers writes about just such a place in his latest
book, The Old Man and the Swamp. It is a must-read for anyone who, like me, has been intrigued by that strange part
of the world at the borders of Indiana, Michigan, and Ohio; fears and respects snakes, and has enitrely too much
memory space dedicated to the 70's & 80's.
I enjoyed Joyce Maynard's latest, The Good Daughters.
I still can't believe All My Children is leaving ABC this September. I was a SLAVE to this
soap opera for 27 years. Even though I stopped watching every day back in '01, I've checked in occasionally, and talked with
co-workers about what was going on in Pine Valley. I mean......a world without Erica Kane? That, to me, is scarier
than facing the end of the Mayan calendar! I have, of course, read Susan Lucci's recent memoir, All My Life.
It's a nice, breezy read, but for diehard AMC fans only. Still...Ms. Lucci is on my list of people I hope to meet someday,
if only to say "THANKS!"
The wonderful thing about "All My Children" is that it was, for many years, more than "just a soap
opera." It was a second family of sorts to its most loyal fans. We can thank the amazing Agnes Nixon, the show's creator for
that, but I also think thanks must be given to the entire production staff, and those incredible actors who made those characters
so special to us. Did I learn some basic facts about life from watching this daytime drama? Yes. Did I learn how to write
a good story from watching "All My Children?" You betcha. Anyone who reads and enjoys the HANDYMAN books can be grateful
for the hours I spent in front of the TV, absorbing the finest writing in daytime television.
Just below is the link to the YouTube video from the intro of the 20th
Anniversary special from 1990. It contains some brief clips from the first 20 years of the show. Although AMC soared wonderfully
into the 21st Century, I gotta admit the best stories were from the first 20 years.
This show ain't dead yet, but it will be in September. Yeah, I'll probably be watching those
final episodes. In the meantime, I want to celebrate some of the best creative writing classes I ever attended. Thanks,
"All My Children!"
And I'm truly finding a great deal of joy in producing and broadcasting my little internet radio
show on www.live365.com. I hope you'll tune in some Wednesday evening for some wonderful old music and chat.
It's all RETRO here at the House of Nick. I also love the occasional old game show clip on YouTube.
I'm all about the retro fun stuff. I'd like to think it reminds us not to take ourselves too seriously in the here
and now. I celebrate old pop music on my internet radio show, NICK POFF RADIO 45.
As most writers do, I love word games, so I always enjoyed the game shows dealing with words. I loved the
$10,000 Pyramid (and the $20,000 and the $25,000 Pyramid, etc.). For those with a short attention span, here's Billy Crystal's
record-breaking trip to the top.
"I can't even watch The New Treasure Hunt anymore because you give me so much shit about it!"
(The above line of dialogue was deleted from the final draft of The Handyman's Dream. Ed's enjoyment
of game shows and Rick's dislike of them would continue to be a source of irritation.)
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Meet two potential victims of global warming.
If you want to save the bears as much as I do, vote wisely in each and every election, and check out the link
on my Favorite Links page.
Nick Poff
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